


Queer Eye for the Hawk Guy

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Series: Clint Barton Bingo [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Queer Eye Makeover, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-05-31 13:29:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19426930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: Nominated by Kate Bishop, recently retired superhero The Amazing Hawkeye, aka Clint Barton, gets a well deserved make over to take him from zero back to hero. However, it isn’t quite as easy as the Fab Five might have initally believed.





	1. From Hero To Zero

“Who are you meant to be?”

“We’re five gorgeous queer men with a camera crew,” Jonathan said, motioning to the other men. It was fairly obvious who they were, surely. This wasn’t exactly the kind of neighbourhood where this fabulous kind of crew would normally be found. “Who do you think we are?”

The man shrugged, revealing a large hole in the shoulder seam of his t-shirt. He scratched the back of his neck, messing up his blond bed hair, and said, “I get all kinds of visitors.”

Bobby peered over the man’s shoulder and grimaced at the sight. “Kate Bishop nominated you for a Queer Eye makeover. You are Clint Barton, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. I thought you weren’t coming until Friday.”

“It is Friday,” Karamo pointed out.

Clint didn’t quite seem to believe him but wasn’t the kind of man to turn away company. “Come in then, I guess.”

The Fab Five looked at each other and grimaced. There was no doubt about it; this would be their greatest challenge yet.

They followed Clint into the living room, although calling it that may have been overly generous. Two deck chairs and a tattered purple sofa sat around a table which had definitely seen better days. Every inch of the floor was covered in dirty socks or food wrappers and the sharp stench of piss and grease hung heavy in the air.

Tentatively perching themselves on the furniture, the Five began to talk to Clint to try and get a handle on what kind of man could stomach living in this mess. A few minutes in, a sudden movement in the corner of the room had Tan stiffening. “Is that a dog? He’s quite, uh, enthusiastic.”

“Last time I checked. Here, Lucky. Good boy,” Clint cooed, scratching Lucky’s ears. His tail was wagging as he ran between the visitors, sniffing and pawing at them each in turn.

“Could we, maybe, get him off me?” Tan squirmed, preferring to draw his legs up onto the disgusting sofa than let Lucky get any nearer.

Clint nodded. He reached behind the sofa and rummaged around until he found yesterday’s box of leftovers and half a slice of pepperoni pizza. Lucky spun around instantly, his eyes going wide as he stared up at the pizza. He padded after Clint and made himself comfy back in his corner, happily slobbering over his meal.

None of the Five knew how to respond to this so said nothing. Their expressions, on the other hand, told everything. Disbelief was by far the main emotion with a healthy dash of horror, confusion and pity thrown in for good measure.

“Why don’t I have a look around the apartment,” Bobby suggested, breaking the silence. “Let me see what we’re working with.”

“Great, you do that and I wanna have a chat with Clint,” Karamo said. Once the others had left, he made himself as comfy as he could on the larger deck chair opposite Clint. Wasting no time, Karamo jumped straight in. “Can I be honest with you? This place makes a pig stye look like the Four Seasons.”

“Yeah, I’ve fallen behind a little in the tidying.”

That much was certainly obvious, although Karamo couldn’t help but wonder when the last time this apartment had seen a duster, with the thick layer settled on practically every surface. “What do you want in life, Clint?”

“Sleep.”

Karamo nodded slowly. “Right. Okay. What do you do, on a normal day? What’s a normal day in the life of Clint Barton like?”

“Well, I’m basically retired now so not a lot. Some consultant work, occasionally.”

“Do you enjoy that?”

It was fairly obvious from Clint’s expression what he thought of consultancy but he voiced his thoughts anyway. “It’s boring as shit. Just sitting in an office and having people who think they know better talk over me. Working was much easier when I could just shoot people who annoyed me.”

Making a mental note to avoid getting on Clint’s wrong side, Karamo turned towards the window and sighed at the sad view: the mouldy, brick wall of the next building along. “When was the last time you left the apartment, Clint? Went outside?”

“I opened a window yesterday. It’s just too loud and noisy out there.” Clint rubbed his temples as if just thinking about the outside world gave him a headache. “It’s more peaceful in here. I can take out my hearing aids and not worry about being run over.”

“Oh. My. God!”

“That sounds like Tan,” Karamo said, almost grateful to have their conversation interrupted. Talking to Clint was like trying to draw blood from a stone and there was so much to unpack about this man that he’d need days to even figure out a starting point. He never expected anyone to open up to him immediately but Clint was far more closed off than most people and clearly had a lot to deal with. It really was going to take something special to pull him out of this low.

Gesturing towards the door, Karamo said, “Why don’t you go see what he found. And thanks for the chat.”

Then men parted ways and Clint headed to the bedroom where Tan had found a path through the mess on the floor and started digging through the cupboard. It had started hopefully - Clint owned one singular nice pair of shoes and decent boots - but it had quickly gone downhill from there.

“Burn these,” Tan said, holding the offending pair of grey, stained sweatpants at arm’s length. He dropped them unceremoniously into a bin (although it may well have just been another pile of mess, it was impossible to tell) before daring to return to Clint’s wardrobe. Unable to disguise his horror, he took a step backward in the hope that it would make it easier to stomach the disgust. It didn’t.

Tan turned to Clint and sighed. There was no saving this closet; these fifty shades of purple needed to be sent to the depths of Hell where they belonged. “You know what? Just burn it all.”

Clint shrugged, taking Tan’s utter disgust in his stride. Nothing seemed to bother this man, not the filth nor the Fab Five taking apart every facet of his questionable lifestyle. Taking a sip of his cold coffee, not actually realising that there was nothing left in the cup, he asked, “The suit too?”

“There’s a suit?” Tan asked, eyes bright in a moment of hope. It was almost enough to inspire him to dive back into the horror but even he wasn’t quite so brave to go digging through the sweaty, stinky hoards to find it himself. “Show me?”

It took ten minutes for Clint to dig through to the back of his wardrobe and pull out his suit. He laid it on the bed and stared at Tan expectantly. “That’s it. The suit.”

“I’ll… I’ll be right back,” Tan said, a blank expression on his face as he left the room. He found Jonathan and Antoni in the living room, mid discussion about how unbelievable Clint was (not in the good way), and interrupted them without so much as a second thought. “You guys have to see this.”

“What is it?” Antoni asked, almost gleeful at how broken Tan appeared to be.

“You won’t believe what I’ve seen.”

He refused to answer any further questions, simply lead the way back to Clint’s bedroom. The three came to an immediate halt when they saw the suit lying on the bed in all its purple, spandex glory.

“Oh. My. God!” Jonathan exclaimed. He was practically bouncing up and down like a kid high on sugar, moments away from snatching it off the mattress and trying it on. “Is that the Amazing Hawkeye suit?”

“That monstrosity has a name?” Tan sagged against the wall, burying his face in his hands. He knew that that would be the first thing he threw out and if he wasn’t so loathed to touch it - after all, who knew where it had been - then he would have personally burned it the moment he escaped this Hell.

Neither of the other men seemed to hear his sigh of resignation, both too busy hanging off of Clint’s arms as they pleaded to try it on. Naturally, Clint didn’t care. He just waved his hands in the air and said, “Have at it.”

Winning rock, paper, scissors, Antoni was the first to try it on and strutted around the apartment like he was on a catwalk in Milan. Karamo and Bobby fell about laughing at the sight but their reaction to him was nothing compared to their reaction to Jonathan in the suit.

Like Antoni, Jonathan was a few inches shorter than Clint so it sagged in a few places but he was determined to absolutely work it. He even went so far as to pull the bow from the wall and jumped between the uneven floorboards as he embraced his inner hero. He thought it really was time he added something like this to his wardrobe, and adamantly ignored Tan’s threats to never speak to him again if he did.

Eventually they returned the suit to Clint’s bedroom but the guys didn’t leave empty handed: Antoni helped himself to an “Amazing Hawkeye” t-shirt and a crooked pair of sunglasses from the desk and Jonathan had become rather too attached to the bow to return it quite yet.

The kitchen was the next stop and, for the first time all morning, Clint actually cracked a smile at one of the Fab Five’s reaction. It was neither proud nor sheepish. He wasn’t at all apologetic for the abysmal state of the room but Antoni’s expression was too much for Clint to maintain his practised stoicness.

“You say this is a kitchen,” Antoni said, spinning around on the spot trying to work out where to start. “But I can’t see anything beneath the mess. Wait. Is this the fridge?”

Clint nodded and Antoni suddenly got very excited. He opened the fridge and frowned. It was completely empty, save for a few cans of value beer and a block of cheese which was greener than the grass outside. Disappointed at the lack of things to sniff, Antoni reached out to poke the furry cheese but decided against it when Clint informed him that he thought it had been in there for almost two years. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to risk that.

“Do you eat anything other than pizza?” Antoni asked, gesturing to the hundreds of cardboard boxes around them.

“There’s a good Thai place round the corner. Sometimes I have an Indian if I need to flush out the system.”

While he supposed the logic couldn’t be faulted, Antoni chose not to dwell on that particular point any longer than was absolutely necessary. A few further questions revealed that Clint did on occasion eat “real” food but only when Kate brought it to him. He could cook but it was “too much effort” and Clint had a tendency of getting distracted and leaving things to burn.

As they spoke Clint set about making himself some more coffee, the strong scent filling the kitchen and leaving poor Antoni feeling a little dizzy. His mouth fell open when Clint pulled the steam coffee pot from the machine and began pouring the thick liquid down his throat without so much as flinching.

Before Antoni could muster the words, Jonathan grabbed Clint and pulled him out of the takeaway graveyard, passing Bobby on the way out. As the pair rounded the corner to the bathroom, they were vaguely aware of Antoni banging his head on Bobby’s shoulder, his pained cries absorbed by the mountains of discarded, greasy pizza boxes that lined the walls. “He just drinks coffee from the pot. From. The. Pot. We’re doomed.”

In the bathroom, Jonathan stood beside Clint and met his gaze in the mirror. Gesturing at the sink cabinet, its only decoration an old bar of tar soap and a blunt razor, Jonathan said, “So, I’m not seeing an awful lot of anything here, really. What’s a normal morning for you? How are we caring for this handsome face?”

“If I’m going out I might splash some cold water on it.”

“Right. What about your hair? I can’t see a hairbrush or comb anywhere.”

“I just use my fingers.”

Jonathan was messing around and testing out random styles as he spoke, too distracted to be rightfully offended by that comment. “Has anyone told you lately that you have lovely hair? A little long and scraggly, like a hobo in the woods kind of chic, but it’s actually quite healthy. How often do you wash it?”

“I don’t.”

Jonathan’s hands immediately dropped to his side and he side eyed Clint in horror. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It was never a priority on missions, I just fell out of the habit.”

Taking a tentative sniff of Clint, Jonathan asked, “You do shower, right…?”

“Sure, I shower.”

“Oh, thank god. Wait, I retract that. Please tell me you don’t use this on your body.” Jonathan pulled small bottle from the shower, half full with that dreadful stuff you got for free in hotels: an all in one shampoo, conditioner and body wash. His horror only increased when he saw the date stamped on the bottom: 2003. “Girl, this has to go. You know, it’s already gone. I can’t believe you put this on your skin.”

Bobby was the only one of the five who didn’t respond to Clint with absolute, abject horror. He was actually quite impressed with the amount of space that the small apartment gave him to work with and his mind was already brimming with ideas. His conversation with Clint was short owing to the fact that Clint literally didn’t give a single care in the world what Bobby did to his house. His only stipulation was that they left the coffee machines in every room. Other than that, he was free to do whatever he saw fit.

Back in the living room, Lucky now comfortably asleep in the darkest corner, the Fab Five reconvened with Clint to discuss his upcoming event.

“Kate told us that you’ve got a function on Friday?” Karamo asked.

“Apparently. Some reception to honour the work I did.”

“Well that’s exciting, isn’t it? Lots of people who love you getting together to celebrate what you’ve done to help society,” Tan said, all too aware of how Clint seemed to be sinking in to the sofa.

Clint shrugged, meeting his gaze. It was interesting; when most people felt awkward they would look away but Clint was different. He stared his problems straight in the face, defiant even when visibly uncomfortable. Forcing so much cheer into his voice that even Lucky seemed to pick up on the lie, he said, “Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be great. Can’t wait.”

“Will you let us help take you out of this funk and bring you back to the hero we know you can be?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do this week.”

The Fab Five looked at one another and inwardly sighed. Certainly not the most enthusiastic ‘yes’ they’d ever gotten but it was a start. This was not going to be an easy ride however Clint needed their help more than most and they were damn well going to try their hardest to help him find the confidence to be the best version of himself that he could possibly be.


	2. Finding a New Target w/ Tan France

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint goes clothes shopping with Tan and Kate shows up to give her unique brand of support.

“So, I brought you here because they do comfortable clothes that still look good. What do you think?”

Clint immediately gravitated towards the sport section where shapeless sweatpants were hanging on display, drawn to the ugly grey fabric like a man possessed. “These are -”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Tan grabbed his arm and pulled him in the opposite direction, shaking his head. There was no way that he would let Clint near those monstrosities. Whether he realised it or not, Clint had an amazing figure and Tan was determined to get him in something that gave him the confidence to show it off to the world. “I was thinking more this kind of thing.”

The pair veered off to the piles of plaid shirts and fitted t-shirts and jeans, clothes that a functioning adult might actually wear on a day to day basis. Clint wandered a little aimlessly between the racks, overwhelmed by the choice. In fact, he seemed dangerously close to turning around and fleeing the shop entirely so Tan gently guided him towards the changing room before he could actually run away, well aware that he’d never be able to catch the ex-hero should he start running.

As they moved through the shop, Clint’s eyes lingered on a dark leather jacket and Tan had to hold back a cheer. Finally he was showing some fashion sense. Maybe there was hope for the archer after all.

They started nice and simple with dark jeans and a printed tee, similar to the kind that Tan had found in the very back of Clint’s cupboard from when he still sort of cared about his image. Of course, these were brand new, didn’t smell like dog’s urine and only had holes where they were supposed to but Tan thought it would be the best way to ease Clint into the day.

The minutes passed and Tan began to grow increasingly concerned by the silence in the changing room. Gently knocking on the wall, he asked, “Everything alright in there?”

No response.

“Clint, are you okay?”

Still no response.

Tan slowly pulled back the curtains and frowned at the empty changing room. Clint had definitely been in there a few minutes ago and unless aliens had come to abduct him (which honestly wouldn’t have been that strange anymore) he had to be somewhere nearby. A gentle rustlisting from above had Tan looking up towards the ceiling where he found Clint perched on the flimsy changing room wall like a bird on a thin wire.

“Clint? What are you doing up there?”

“I think better up high,” he answered, as if it were a totally normal response.

Taking it in his stride, grateful that Kate had warned them that Clint was on occasion prone to ‘slightly odd’ behaviour, Tan leant against the changing room wall and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“Whether these jeans are too tight or not.”

“Are they?”

“Definitely too tight. I tore the ass seam.”

It was probably better to not think about how Clint possibly managed that but Tan couldn’t help from wondering. This man truly was a walking - climbing - disaster. How anyone had felt remotely safe with him as the local hero was beyond him but there was something endearing about his craziness that made Tan want to help him more. “Come on down and we’ll try something else, yeah?”

Thankfully the second attempt at dressing Clint went a lot more smoothly. Forbidden from climbing the walls, Clint kept his feet on the ground and actually looked great in the new clothes. They went with slightly looser trousers and a comfortable plaid shirt, he was messing around in front of the mirror pulling stupid poses and generally seeming happier than he had in the entire time that Tan had known him.

When Tan handed him the leather jacket from before, Clint nearly burst with joy but managed to dial it back and maintain some semblance of dignity. He slipped the jacket over the shirt and smirked at his reflection.

“How do you feel?”

“Like maybe Kate might think I’m cool again.”

“You used to be cool?” Kate asked, stepping out from around the corner with a huge smile on her face. “You’ve never been cool. Just a major pain in the ass.”

Clint instantly relaxed around his mentee and friend. Even though he wore a murder glare, it was clear that he was happy to have her around. “After everything I’ve done for you…”

“You mean all the times you nearly got me killed?”

“Shut up,” Clint said, gently shoving her shoulder. Twirling around in front of the mirror again, miming taking a shot with his trusty bow and arrow, he asked, “You like it, though, right?”

Kate nodded. Her attention was split between Clint and Tan, far more alert and aware of their surroundings than either of the men. There was no danger here but she couldn’t help but keep an eye out to protect her mentor when he was - finally - relaxed and actually enjoying himself. “Sure, I can’t wait to steal it.”

“No chance. Buy your own.”

“Every chance,” she insisted and it was immediately obvious to Tan that Kate would absolutely be getting her way. Clint looked at her like she was his annoying little sister but he clearly adored her and would do anything for her. Including letting her wear his new clothes.

Tan had turned his back on the pair for less than a minute but when he returned they were completely distracted from the task at hand and discussing something that went completely over his head. Probably in code, possibly just complete gibberish. He wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, they had things to do so he pulled Kate aside and handed Clint the next outfit to try on.

While Clint battled with buttoning a new shirt, a whole string of profanities completely unsuitable for tv floating out from the changing room, Tan asked Kate, “Is he always like this?”

She didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Yeah. This is a good day, though. Really good, actually. He’s not been the same since he retired.”

“Why did he retire?”

“It’s complicated. Not really my story to tell,” Kate said loftily. Like a switch had been flicked in her, she jumped away from the wall where she’d made herself comfortable and shouted to Clint, “You ready yet? I’m getting bored waiting for your slow ass.”

“Buttons are complicated, Katie!”

“You can shoot a target while blindfolded and falling from a twenty story building. Why are you struggling with buttons?”

“Shut up. I’m tired and haven’t had my coffee this morning.”

Kate turned to Tan and threw her hands in the air. “You took him out before he had his coffee? Are you stupid or suicidal?”

“I’d like to think neither?”

Ignoring him completely, Kate shook her head and called to her mentor, “Give me ten minutes, I’ll be back with your usual. Want anything to eat with it?”

“We passed a pizza place on the way here?”

“On it.”

Seconds after Kate disappeared, Clint peaked his head out the curtain and grinned. “I can’t believe that worked.”

Tan frowned as he tidied up Clint’s outfit, tucking in the front of the shirt to his trousers and smoothing out the shoulders. Meeting his gaze in the mirror, he asked, “What just happened?”

“Kate’s getting me coffee and pizza because she thinks I go crazy whenever I don’t eat - she’s probably not wrong - and now I don’t have to pay for it. She’s got such a big heart. And wallet.”

“You manipulated a child into buying you things?”

Clint tugged on the shirt and pulled it free from his trousers, much to Tan’s disappointment. He didn’t seem to notice, though. “Well it sounds bad when you put it that way. It’s only coffee and pizza. It could be drugs. She’s gotten me weapons before, you know. Uh… You’re not gonna put that in the show, are you? Because that sounds really bad and kinda illegal now that I say it out loud.”

“You’re good,” Tan said, patting Clint on the shoulder. Handing over another pile of clothes, well aware of how the onsite producer was starting to turn a dangerous shade of red, he motioned back towards the changing room. “Let’s get back on task, shall we? We’ve still got quite a way to go before we’re finished here.”


	3. Finding a New Target w/ Karamo Brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karamo takes Clint out to a shooting range where Clint has a breakthrough about what he really wants and deserves in life

"You recognise where we are?“

"Sure,” Clint said. For a brief second, his eyes lit up with excitement but that fire faded almost instantly. It was something the Fab Five had all noticed; Clint seemed to hold himself back from anything which could possibly be good or provide him with a simple moment of joy. He was approaching life without a hint of enthusiasm as if everything was just a chore, just another thing to do to make it through the day.

But there had been glimpses of him coming out of his shell. Tan had seen it briefly when Clint had been messing around and posing in his new clothes. Karamo had caught the look in his eye before he’d pushed it away.

It made Karamo even more sure that this had been the right decision. Kate had told them that this shooting range used to be one of Clint’s favourite places to go and unwind. They had a huge set up for paintball tournaments and had always been happy to let their local Avenger use it on the down days to keep up his fitness and have a little fun while practising his aim.

That wasn’t why they were there today, though. 

Instead, Karamo led Clint into a large, empty room with a target set up at the back. He sat Clint down in the middle of the room and asked, “How does it feel to be back here?”

"Good, I guess.“

"I was hoping for a little more than a guess.”

Clint shrugged, eyes darting around the unfamiliar room as he tried to take in every inch. Convinced that there were no dangers hiding in the shadows, his shoulders dropped and he finally met Karamo’s gaze. “It’s been too long since I came here.”

"Why did you stop coming? Kate told me that you loved it.“

"I did. Do. I don’t know. Things got intense and I needed time to deal with it all.”

“And have you?” The silence which met Karamo’s question gave a perfectly clear answer. “So, you haven’t come back here since you retired from the Avengers?”

He shook his head, grimacing slightly at the mention of his old team. The spot on the floor between his feet suddenly became very interesting and it was a good job Clint did not possess laser eyes for it would most certainly have burst into flames by now. With a small shrug, he said, “Or a few months before that, really.”

"Why not?“

"Didn’t feel like it.”

Sensing that was as much as he was going to get from Clint, Karamo moved on. “So, what do you think we’re going to do today?”

Clint’s gaze flickered to the large target on the opposite side of the room. Leaning back, eyebrow arched, the activity of the day fairly obvious even to him, he said, “Shoot stuff, I hope.”

"We’ll get there. First, I want you to write something that you want on this,“ Karamo said, pulling a some blank slips of paper from his pocket. He slid them across the floor and handed Clint a pen. "Just write whatever comes in to your mind. The first thing. Doesn’t matter what it is.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been shocked when Clint immediately scribbled: _Coffee._

Looking up with a smirk on his lips, almost challenging Karamo to say something, Clint slid the paper over and said, “I want coffee.”

As stupid an answer as it may be, it was actually a good start. It was something material, something easily achievable. If Karamo could get Clint to see that any goal was as within his grasp as a good shot of caffeine then it might just be what he needed to get him out of this funk.

“That’s good. Finding the small things that make us happy is important. These are the things that get us through the day. Now try and think of another.”

The next few slips of paper read: sleep, money and lunch. However, under Karamo’s watchful eye, Clint’s wants slowly started to move towards deeper desires as he addressed the real thoughts that weighed heavily on his mind. __

_To help people._

_Stop disappointing Kate._

_Protect my friends and keep them safe._

Karamo couldn’t have been happier that Clint seemed to be taking this seriously. It was interesting, though, how all the the things he wanted benefited other people and not himself. Hardly surprising, given how he’d dedicated much of his life to being a hero and helping other people. However, right now, he wanted Clint to focus more on himself.

"These are great,“ Karamo said genuinely. "But what about you?”

Clint frowned. “What about me?”

“I want you to think selfishly for a few minutes. You clearly care for the people around you and that’s amazing but you also need to take care of yourself. So, what is it that you want, Clint? Not what will benefit other people. What will benefit you?”

It took Clint a long time to come up with an answer. Multiple times he pressed the tip of the pen against the paper but changed his mind, leaving nothing but a small splodge of ink. Karamo didn’t rush him, though. It was important that he got there in his own time.

Eventually, he scribbled down his one true hope. The writing was near illegible but with a little effort the words became clear: _Wake up in the morning and feel good about myself._

Once Clint had managed to write a few more cards, they pinned them to the target and Karamo handed him his bow, which had been collected from the appartment earlier that day. Standing a safe distance behind Clint as he threw his quiver over his shoulder and took up his stance, Karamo said, “Every one of these things you want, they are within your reach, Clint. All you have to do is take a shot.”

Clint’s reputation as one of the best marksmen in the world was certainly not exaggerated. He wasn’t called Hawkeye for nothing. Every arrow met its mark, right in the centre of the card. What made it even more impressive was the sheer speed at which he let loose the shots. Barely a second passed between each shot until suddenly the entire target was covered with arrows.

“That was fun,” Clint said, collapsing his bow. Something had changed in the hero, a subtle but distinct shift in his energy. Where before he had been sombre and a little broody, really, now he stood with his shoulders back and head held high. “Got anything else I can shoot? I really - Is that coffee? Please tell me that’s for me.”

It was hard not to laugh at Clint’s bloodhound like skills when it came to sniffing out caffeine. He practically snatched the cup from the runner’s hand and inhaled the boiling liquid without a care in the world as to how it might burn his tongue. Once he’d had his fix, he smiled gratefully at the young man and almost sheepishly handed back the cup. “Thanks for that.”

"How do you feel, now?“ Karamo asked, clarifying, "Not for the coffee. For doing this.”

"Good, I think? I don’t normally think about, you know, stuff like this. Or stuff in general, really.“

"You deserve to get the things you want, Clint. You deserve to be happy.” Even though he hid it well, Karamo still caught the hero’s self depreciating smile. Gently, he asked, “What is it?”

"I have done a lot of bad things. Made stupid mistakes which hurt the people I love most. I run away whenever things get difficult and fuck up pretty much every day. I let Bobbi down. I let the team down. My best friends are a dog that eats pizza off the floor and a teenager that steals my stuff and I somehow manage to hurt them every day. I ruin everything I touch.“

"You’ve been through shit. I get it. I can’t imagine the struggles that you have had but they have all made you a stronger person. You are a good person, Clint. Everyone fucks up and makes mistakes. It’s part of being human. And it is never too late to try and fix a mistake. All you have to do -”

"Is take the shot,“ Clint finished.

"Exactly. Say it with me, Clint: I am a good person, I deserve to be happy.”

The pair repeated it over and over like a chant until something changed in Clint and he suddenly seemed to believe that it might actually be true. He grew louder in his mantra, eventually shouting it at the top of his lungs.

Karamo smiled and patted him on the back. Clint still had a lot of issues, more than most people could ever dare to imagine struggling with, but this was a start. In realising that he did indeed have as much right to happiness as everyone, he could take the next steps to actually achieving his goals and get closer to the life he wanted - he deserved - to live.


	4. Overcoming the drawbacks w/ Jonathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has his hair cut with Jonathan and learns self worth comes from within, bitches.

“You have beautiful hands, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Normally they’re too busy fighting to mention it,” Clint said.

Jonathan smiled. He wasn’t intimidated by Clint at all, unlike a few of the other Fab Five. In fact, he was more fascinated than anything else. It was a secret he’d take to the grave but Jonathan had had a crush on Hawkeye ever since the Chitauri invaded New York. Something to do with the arms, he was sure. Or maybe it was the Lycra. It certainly did a tremendous job at highlighting his assets.

“Well, sit down. I’m going to take this mess and get rid of the bird nest thing you’ve got going on and we’ll try something new,” Jonathan said, running his fingers through the tangled mess of blond hair upon Clint’s head. “When was the last time you got a haircut?”

Clint relaxed into the chair, a lot calmer about this change than he had been with the others to his life. Or perhaps it was because he was finally embracing the changes and was really excited to be the best version of himself. Well, that may have been optimistic thinking on Jonathan’s part but he couldn’t help but hope for the best.

After taking a moment to sift through his memories, Clint answered, “Sometime last year, maybe? Might be longer. Can’t really remember what year we’re in.”

“Were they blind?” Jonathan asked, after confirming that it was indeed 2019.

Without a hint of sarcasm, Clint said, “Actually, yeah. We were out doing recon on a target for a few months in the Sahara so it was him or the camel.”

“Oh.” That was certainly an unexpected answer but then Jonathan was beginning to understand that Clint was the type of person who ended up in practically every strange situation a person could possibly encounter. As such, these often odd tidbits about his life didn’t make that big of an impression when his entire story was so fascinatingly bizarre. “I suppose it isn’t that bad then. And you do have lovely hair, it just needs tidying.”

Remembering the grey sweatpants, Jonathan had his answer before he’d even asked his next question. Still he asked it nonetheless, interested to hear Clint’s own take on his appearance. “Do you think a lot about how you look?”

“Didn’t need to before when I had a uniform.” Jonathan grew a little dreamy eyed as he remembered the purple Lycra but quickly shook the thought from his mind. If Clint noticed anything, he had the grace not to mention it. “Don’t need to now when I only go outside to put the trash out.”

While he could understand the sentiment, Jonathan ardently disagreed. Stepping away from Clint for a moment, he gave a twirl so that his long skirt bellowed around him. He flipped his hair over his shoulder and kicked his foot in the air with a huge smile. Gesturing to the mismatching fabrics, he said, “Clothes are an extension of yourself. They tell the world what to think about you and, more importantly, what you think of yourself.”

“I don’t have a lot to tell the world.”

Jonathan frowned. “Sure you do. You’re a kind, decent person with a lot to say, Clint. People wanna listen to you, too.”

A while later, once he’d finished the final touches, Jonathan spun Clint’s chair around and watched carefully for the reaction. Gone was the bird’s nest and now Clint was sporting a dramatic Mohawk. He could see in the hero’s eyes that he liked it but beneath that was a severe wave of anxiety threatening to burst through.

Perching on the edge of a worktop, Jonathan asked, “What is it?”

It took Clint a good few moments to respond honestly. “Don’t particularly like showing off my hearing aids.”

“Maybe bright purple wasn’t the way to go if you were looking for subtle.”

“I like purple,” Clint shrugged.

“Well then, show it off. You are a very handsome man, Clint. Your hearing aids are just another part of the incredible man you are. You don’t have to hide parts of yourself. Embrace them! You can only make the world respect you if you respect yourself. Self worth comes from within, bitches,” Jonathan said, snapping his fingers. “Now. How do you feel about a manicure? We’ve got just the right purple that would match your aids.”


	5. Overcoming the drawbacks w/ Antoni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint learns to prepare microwave spaghetti with Antoni, to the background tune of Kate’s never ending teasing. However, things don’t quite go to plan and Clint ends up nearly blowing up the microwave.

“When was the last time you cooked?” Antoni asked, looking up from the chopping board. He and Clint were holed up in Kate’s apartment (which was far nicer than their hero’s) while Bobby was refitting his own space. Unlike Clint’s, Kate’s kitchen was overflowing with the newest appliances, the fridge was fully stocked with fresh foods and she even had complete a set of cutlery.

Kate had offered her apartment willingly, not least because it meant her entire house got a free and incredibly thorough cleaning from the production crew, but also to ‘support’ her mentor. In other words, she couldn’t wait to laugh at Clint as he fumbled around the kitchen with the same lack of coordination of a baby giraffe.

However, both she and Antoni were shocked to find that Clint could not only handle a knife without chopping off a finger but was actually scarily skilled when it came to cutting vegetables.

Unaware of their amazed expressions, or perhaps simply choosing to ignore them, Clint answered, “Katie, when did Bobbi and I get divorced?”

Kate’s expression softened, apprently well aware that Clint knew down to the day when he and Bobbi had finalised the paperwork. Keeping her tone light, she propped her elbow on the hard granite surface of the island and said, “About five years ago.”

“It was before that, then. Why?”

“You’re just very comfortable with the knife,” Antoni shrugged, a few seconds late as he missed the fact the question was actually directed at him. 

“Had to be. Needed something to fight with when the arrows ran out. Between Nat and the circus, I know plenty of innovative ways to use a knife. This one time in Budapest, Widow and I got trapped in a building for a few days. No supplies. No food. Just us and the dead bodies of the guards. Learned exactly what a knife would cut through there.” 

By the time Clint glanced up from the onions on the chopping board, Antoni was slowly retreating to a safe distance round the island and Kate just rolled her eyes.

Quick to reassure Antoni and the camera crew that Clint wasn’t actually dangerous, at least not entirely, Kate said, “Don’t listen to a word he says. The pair of them talk about Budapest all the time like it was some great adventure but really they both just got so drunk that they fell down the stairs and spent the night throwing up. Since then they’ve come up with a million different stories, each crazier than the last.”

“You swore you’d take that to your grave, Hawkeye.”

“I think stopping you from telling the entire world you’re a cannibal is a decent reason to share that, don’t you, Hawkeye?

“Take your logic somewhere else. It’s not wanted here.”

“You’re not wanted here,” she snarked back. “Get on with the cooking, will you? I’m starving.”

“When was the last time you cooked, Katie? With your private chef and UberEats overdraft.”

Horrified at the accusation, no matter how true it might have been, Kate turned her nose up at Clint and huffed, “I’ve not had an overdraft with them since they shut down my account.”

“Use mine next time, then,” Clint said. “It’s still linked to the Avengers credit card. They won’t care.”

Clint set the knife down, chopping finished, and looked over to Antoni expectantly. Antoni had been watching their back and forth with intrigue. It was a decidedly strange relationship the pair had, somewhere between mentor-student, permanently teasing friends and even father-daughter at times. They cared for each other a lot, even though they clearly drove each other mad.Still, it was lovely to see that Clint had someone in his life who cared for him. 

“What’s next, then?” Clint asked. “And what are we actually making?”

Convinced that he’d already told Clint a hundred times what they were making, Antoni answered, “Microwave Bolognaise.”

“Microwave?” Clint and Kate asked simultaneously.

Where Clint suddenly seemed very excited, Kate seemed equally horrified by the suggestion. She turned to Antoni, hand on hip, eyebrow quirked at a decidedly terrifying angle, and said, “You’re seriously teaching him to cook gourmet food in a microwave?”

Refusing to be intimidated by the frankly terrifying teenager, Antoni held a finger in the air, marking his point. “One, gourmet food doesn’t have to be complicated or fancy. It just has to be delicious.” Another finger went up. “Two, it’s quick and easy which is clearly something Clint needs. He eats takeaways for their ease and this will be ready in less time than a curry from round the corner would take to get to his front door.” A final finger. “And three, do you really trust this man to safely operate an oven?”

“Those… are good points. Continue.”

“I will, thanks.” Turning his attention back to Clint, Antoni explained the next steps. “So, all the chopped ingredients go in a bowl with the mince. Mix it all up then cover it with cling film - but not all the way. Yeah, that’s good. You need to let the steam out. Just shove it in the microwave for three minutes and we’ll get the next bits prepared.”

The microwave hummed as they opened a can of tinned tomatoes - on which Clint managed to slice his hand open. He barely flinched at the blood but the production crew were remarkably fast to patch him up. In fact, his palm was all bandaged up before the timer dinged.

They emptied the tomatoes into the bowl along with some stock (Kate was put in charge of the boiling liquid to avoid another incident) and a little seasoning. It went back in the microwave for seven minutes, during which Antoni showed Clint how to prepare a few easy non-cook meals that even he could manage not to completely screw up.

Clint gave the sauce a stir with a fork and set it back in for another ten minutes, as instructed. In that time, the trio sat around talking about foods - Antoni insisting that spaghetti cannot under any circumstances be cooked in the kettle - and slowly grew distracted so the conversation drifted towards some of Clint and Kate’s more bizarre adventures together.

Halfway through a story featuring the Russian Mob, Antoni wrinkled his nose and asked, “Can you smell that?”

All three turned towards the microwave, which was flashing all manner of bright colours and spitting out smoke. Too scared to touch it, they searched for a power socket to pull the power when Kate suddenly remembered that it may or may not have come from a secret lab and possibly ran on a completely internalised, self regenerating power source.

“In English?” A terrified camera man, Jim, asked grabbing his partner by the shirt to stop him going closer to get a better shot. 

“It runs on a nuclear battery and is probably going to explode.”

Five hours and two bomb disposal teams later, the trio were finally allowed back into Kate’s building along with the rest of the understandably angry tenants. No longer as clean as it had been earlier, the entire apartment having been trampled through by heavy booted explosive experts, all Kate could do was sigh at the smoke damaged kitchen.

Flopping on to her sofa, which now smelt like burnt garlic and heavy metals, she just shrugged off Clint’s concerns and said, “I’ve been meaning to redecorate anyway.”

“At least this wasn’t my fault, for once,” Clint said, falling down beside her.

Kate shook her head. “Ah, but it is. I overheard the guys downstairs talking - you know, while you were blocking out the world with your aids off -“

“It was so loud and I just wanted to enjoy my coffee in peace!”

“Whatever. They said the whole thing was set off my a metal utensil inside the microwave.” Glaring at Antoni, Kate said, “You should have told him not to leave the fork in there.”

Wondering how this had suddenly become his fault, Antoni exclaimed, “It wasn’t obvious?”

“You’ve met him, right?”

That was a fair point. If Antoni had learned anything from the other members of the Fab Five or from his own observations of the archer, it was that he couldn’t be trusted with even the simpest task. When it came to killing aliens, jumping from buildings, shooting a target from impossible distances, Hawkeye was more than capable. But anything remotely normal or necessary for a functioning human to master? Clint was not your guy.

Admitting defeat, Antoni said, “Fair. For future reference, Clint, metal and microwaves? Not a good combination. I’ll write you a list of things to avoid.”

Clint nodded in thanks, visibly guilty about ruining Kate’s apartment and an entire segment of the show. He’d was quick to assure his mentee that he would pay for all the refurbishments; as he’d said to Kate on many occasions, he had the money to put his screw ups right now that he’d retired (the Avengers’ pension was healthy and over the years he’d gotten his hands on a few questionable bags of cash which needed to go to good causes) and he intended to make good on fixing his messes. 

Pushing himself upright, he said, “So, I guess with our meal now radioactive and locked away in a lead box for the next few hundred thousand years, it’s lasagne from Locatelli’s? I’ll pay.”

“Damn right you’ll pay,” Kate mumbled. “Since you’ll be using that nice shiny Avengers’ card, you had better not skimp on garlic bread either.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” To Antoni and the camera crew, Clint motioned to the spare sofa and said, “You’re welcome to stay too. Just be warned that the last time we ate from Locatelli’s, my ass ended up like Hiroshima.”

“Now that’s a vivid image,” Dave - the considerably more cheerful camera man - said. He was also the bravest. Where Antoni and Jim politely declined, Dave was more than willing to put his stomach to the test. Sadly, he learned the hard way that while Locatelli’s lasagne tasted incredible the after effects were less than pleasant and the poor man was not seen for days.


	6. Hitting the Bullseye w/ Bobby

Over the past few days, Bobby and his team had completely gutted Clint’s apartment and fitted it with entirely new furniture and appliances. Today, it was time to show off the final product. They were all very excited to see what their hero thought of the changes and the Fab Five were eagerly awaiting his arrival.

Bobby opened the door to Clint, sporting a great new haircut, that made him look a lot more badass and like an ex-hero should, and Kate, who the Fab Five had come to recognise as the only calming influence on the archer. Of course, she was also a major instigator and seemed to get him into an awful lot more trouble than he could have managed on his own (an impressive feat) but they were all happy to see her. She’d been through this journey with Clint; it was only fair she got to see the end results too.

They began the tour in the living room. Gone were the shitty sofas and carpets that smelled worse than a public toilet. Now, it was clean, fresh. The walls were lighter and it felt a far larger space. It was still very simple in design since Clint wasn’t one for grandeur but the wooden shelves and cupboards had all been stained a dark purple.

There was a space for Clint’s arrows and a set of three targets on the wall, masquerading as statement art but functional too. Naturally, Clint and Kate were quick to compete for the title of apartment’s best archer and when that came to a dead heat they settled on sharing the crown. Everyone knew that the moment they were alone that the competition would recommence until a winner had been found, even if it meant taking shots blindfolded while standing on their heads.

Lucky had his own space in the corner and Bobby was quick to point out that the covers were removable and easy to clean. All of Lucky’s toys had been washed and freshened up and a few new ones had been added to the box - included multiple chew toys shaped like pizza because, as Antoni pointed out, it was probably best to limit his pizza intake.

“I know sometimes you like to shut out the world, so I took that into account,” Bobby said. It had been an important part of his design process, taking into consideration all of Clint’s personal needs. As such, the rooms were all light and open but, as a quick demonstration proved, the curtains were plenty thick enough to block out the light if a day had been particularly bad.

Next was the bedroom. Bobby hadn’t been entirely sure how Clint would react but the way his eyes lit up convinced him that putting in a raised platform for the bed was the right choice. It was basically the ‘adult’ version of a bunk bed. A small ladder gave easy access but Clint quickly proved he didn’t need it, more than able of swinging himself up without.

Clint sat cross legged and stared down at the others, nodding in approval. “I definitely like this.”

He jumped back down to check out the space beneath the bed, landing in the archetypal ‘superhero pose’. Kate offered Clint a hand up, the sound of her rolling her eyes drowning out the quiet moan that accompanied the creaking of his joints. “I’ve told you before that one day you’ll break your knees doing that.”

“But I look so cool.”

Beneath the bed was essentially another miniature living room. There was a sofa, a small table and another bed for Lucky as well as the cupboard. Tan was quick to point out how it was easily organised so that even Clint couldn’t mess up choosing an outfit: clothes for going out to events were on one side; casual day-to-day wear was on the other. There were three pairs of shoes: posh, every day and his trusted boots. There was even space to hang up the superhero Lycra since no one had really wanted to see it gone.

The bathroom had changed the least. The tiles had been cleaned and a new shower put in, stocked with gels and shampoos from dates this century. Jonathan explained how to use a few products but kept it simple to save Clint from information overload, which he was clearly headed towards.

Moving on to the final room, Bobby led everyone into the kitchen. He was most proud of the change here, not least because it now looked like a functional room. It was free of used, greasy takeaway boxes and the walls were finally visible again.

“This is a smart fridge,” he said, aware that Kate and Antoni were far more excited by that than Clint. So, Bobby went on to explain why it was a good thing for Clint: “It tells you when food is going off and can help you write a shopping list. Plus the freezer is big enough to store lots of frozen meals so you should never run out of food.”

Antoni took over to show off the new oven and microwave - “Definitely not radioactive, this time” - each with a timer loud enough to be heard from any room to let him know when to take foods out. The last thing they wanted was for Clint to burn down the entire building on his first attempt to cook in years.

Clint opened his mouth to point out an obvious fact but Bobby was one step ahead of him. “That’s the thing. We know you don’t always have your aids in which means you don’t always hear them. So, someone far smarter than us created a system that connects the timers and front door bell and phones to these little lights. They’re in every room so even when you’re not listening you can still see the important things.”

Without a word, Clint stepped forward and pulled Bobby into a hug. Kate quickly did the same, wrapping her arms around both men, and whispered, “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to him.”

“Group hug!” Jonathan exclaimed, coming at the trio with such force that he nearly knocked them over. The others quickly joined in on the embrace, proud to have helped a man as deserving as Clint Barton.


	7. Hitting the Bullseye - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long week, the Fab Five return to their loft and see just how much progress Clint has made. No longer a zero, Clint reclaims his hero status and shows that he will not let anything stop him from getting the life and happiness he deserves.

The Fab Five were back in their loft, piled on to the sofa with drinks and nibbles as Bruley whined at their feet, vying for their attention. Naturally, they gave in soon enough with Jonathan and Bobby pulling him into their laps and showering him with love.

All comfortable, they switched on the TV and cheered excitedly when they saw Clint and Kate. The pair were standing in front of Clint’s new wardrobe, bickering over what he should wear to the event tonight. Each had chosen an outfit and laid them on the sofa but the clothes seemed to have been long forgotten as the argument had wandered far afield.

“That’s certainly a brave choice,” Tan said, frowning at Clint’s pick. He had somehow managed to choose the only two things in the wardrobe that didn’t match. (Naturally Jonathan saw nothing wrong with it). Thankfully, Kate had selected a far more low key combination that when Clint finally succumbed to her fashion expertise looked amazing on him.

Kate got Lucky ready to go while Clint changed, which was far easier said than done since the lazy dog had made himself quite comfortable on his new bed (which Antoni attested was, indeed, incredibly comfortable) and surrounded by numerous new toys. They were already covered in slobber but far better them than Clint’s new sofas.

In the time it took Clint to work out how to properly button up his shirt, Kate had put a collar on Lucky and changed into a beautifully stylist cocktail dress herself. Rolling her eyes at the disastrous man called her friend, Kate helped him straighten out his jacket and handed him Lucky’s leash.

“Are you ready?” She asked, taking a moment to appreciate how Clint’s nail polish unexpectedly matched with the accessories she’d chosen for Lucky.

Clint crouched down to scratch Lucky behind the ears, his nerves visibly disappearing as he muttered nonsense to the golden dog. “As I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

The video cut to the pair arriving at a small events hall and being greeted by the event manager, a young man who signed his welcome to Clint and thanked him for coming to speak tonight. He introduced them to a few of the guests and then disappeared to organise something or other for later.

Even with her limited signing, Kate dominated most of the conversations but Clint didn’t seem to mind. People were drawn to her and she was ever considerate as she spoke clearly and slowly about all manner of things. No one could resist her slightly crazy charm.

However as the evening progressed, Lucky nuzzling against his leg and keeping the archer calm in the increasingly crowded space, Karamo was proud to see that Clint slowly came out of his shell and his small talk became decidedly less awkward as the night went on. One could almost say he looked happy to be there and interacting with people.

It definitely seemed to help that he was frequently complimented on his looks and that others in the room wore their hearing aids with pride. It seemed to give Clint the confidence he lacked, making him hold his head just a little higher than before.

Another cut to a few hours later showed Clint stepping up onto the stage to give his speech. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, gaze on the ground as the words began to flow. Clint was hardly the best public speaker in the world, easily getting drawn off topic and using a lot of words to say not an awful lot, but the message was clear.

Despite his fidgeting, Clint’s hands were perfectly steady as he signed along with his speech. “First I wanna thank Craig for organising a great night. It’s been terrifying to meet so many new people but you are all decent people and I’m glad to have met you. We have BBQs on my apartment block roof every month and you’re all invited. I’m sure we’ll all fit. Anyway, Craig asked me here to talk about how disability doesn’t define us but honestly, before this week, I would have been spewing bullshit.

“When I was part of the Avengers, I just did the job. I didn’t let these -“ He pointed to his aids. “Or this-“ His head, his mind. “Interfere. I had no choice. I had to finish the mission. That was it. I wasn’t proud of what I could do and I didn’t think I was doing anything special. I hated that this was my lot in life.

“Those feelings got worse after I retired. I sat in my house, in the dark, hiding away from people. I fell into a pretty dark place. I hid what was wrong with me, covered it up so other people wouldn’t know and tried to forget myself. But now I know how important it is to embrace those parts of me.”

Jonathan waved his hand in the air, all too smug. “I taught him that.”

“We all did, shut up.”

“I’m deaf, depressed and anxious. That sounds like some shit tv show there. Whatever. I know now, thanks to the support of five fabulous queer men that these things are part of what make me so amazing. And I am. Obviously. These things didn’t stop me being a hero before and they won’t stop me living my life and being a hero now.

“This week I realised what I really want to do is help people and thanks to Craig and his foundation I’ve found a way to do it. Twice a week I’ll be running an archery class as well as self defence lessons so you can say you’ve beaten up an Avenger. I’m also taking on a mentoring position with the youth group. Trust me, I’m as scared about that as you because I’m sure I’ll fuck it up but I’m gonna try hard not to.

“I’m going to stop rambling so you can get back to your food and drink but I just want to thank the Fab Five again for all their help this week and the friend who stands by me no matter how much I screw up: My dog, Lucky.” Clint smirked. “Oh. And also Katie, too. She’s a pain in the ass but I owe her a lot. Can we give her a hand please? Without her I would be considerably more of a mess than I am and I’m proud to know her and call her my family.”

Kate wove through the crowd and met Clint at the bottom of the stairs to the stage where he pulled her into a tight hug. The video faded away and the guys were wiping tears from their eyes. Compared to the mess of a man who had opened his door to them only a week before, this Clint was an entirely different person.

Raising their glasses, Jonathan said, “To Clint, our very own _fabulous_ Hawkeye.”

“To Clint!”


End file.
